


Basic Mixology

by boonies



Category: Dong Bang Shin Ki, JYJ - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-05
Updated: 2012-12-05
Packaged: 2017-11-20 08:54:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/583529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boonies/pseuds/boonies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on Jaejoong's recent interview: "I kiss our members when I get drunk."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Basic Mixology

*

 

The first time Jaejoong does it, the three of them are at a very private noraebang, systematically decimating songs they've just been banned from performing.

 

"I'm gonna sing all the balloons," Junsu slurs with purpose, climbing up on the couch and practically deep-throating the mic. "ALL OF THEM."

 

Jaejoong just laughs in that broken way that makes Yoochun's soul ache, and says, "Go sing all the balloons, Junsu-yah."

 

He takes a shot and slumps over, leaning his elbows on his knees.

 

Next to him, Yoochun's throat is burning with alcohol or bile or maybe anxiety and betrayal, so he tips the shot glass and slams back another thing of soju. "I hate this song."

 

Unsteadily, Jaejoong turns his head. He stares for a moment, bangs matted to his forehead, sweat clinging to his upper lip, and mumbles, "Chun-ah, you're pretty."

 

Yoochun squints, vision blurry. "I'm pretty what?"

 

"You're just pretty," Jaejoong says and pecks him on the lips.

 

"—WHEN YOU BECOME AN ADULT—" Junsu hollers, totally off key, and spins around to point at Yoochun, then Jaejoong. He loses his balance and topples across them. His head lands in Jaejoong's lap, his butt in Yoochun's. "SOMETHING SOMETHING BALLOONS, CHANGMIN'S PART, SOMETHING SOMETHING."

 

The karaoke machine powers down with a protracted daeng.

 

Score: 17%.

 

*

 

The second time Jaejoong does it, Yoochun's completely sober.

 

"There's alcohol in this chocolate," Jaejoong sighs, draping himself across Junsu.

 

Junsu makes a tiny annoyed noise but doesn't push him off. "Why are you eating chocolate."

 

Jaejoong sways, almost rolling them both off the piano bench. "There's alcohol in it."

 

Yoochun frowns, stepping closer to pry them apart before they wreck his piano.

 

Jaejoong moans in protest, snuggling into Junsu and tapping a lazy finger to G#. "Wanna taste?"

 

Junsu gives Yoochun a desperate, pleading look, spreading his arms helplessly.

 

"Okay," Yoochun laughs and tugs on Jaejoong's shoulder. "Time for a nap, hyung."

 

Jaejoong goes willingly.

 

"You should try some," he says, arm slung around Yoochun's waist for support, face pressed into Yoochun's neck. "It's really good...alcolate? Chocohol?"

 

Indulgent, Yoochun pushes the bedroom door open. "Alright, alright, I'll grab some later—"

 

Jaejoong kisses him.

 

He tastes like liquor and candy and something infinitely more bittersweet.

 

Yoochun doesn't brush his teeth that night. 

 

*

 

"Will there be booze?" Junsu asks, hesitating in the hallway.

 

Yoochun adjusts his tie, lengthening his stride. "It's a corporate event. Even the water's probably gonna be, like, 180-proof."

 

Junsu hurries to catch up. "That's not mathematically possible."

 

Yoochun's lips quirk.

 

Off in the distance, he spots Jaejoong and for a moment he's not sure if it's a poster or the real thing since Jaejoong always looks like he's been photoshopped but this thing is waving them over, so.

 

" _Don't let him drink_ ," Junsu whispers harshly, rushing by.

 

But Yoochun forgets halfway through dinner.

 

He tops off Jaejoong's glass with a gallon of fancy wine.

 

"I wanna put my mouth on your mouth," Jaejoong murmurs the moment they stumble into the parking garage.

 

Yoochun drops his car keys.

 

Junsu bends to pick them up, muttering. "I told you. I told you not to. Why do you never listen to me. No one ever listens. But I told you."

 

Repentant, Yoochun lets Junsu claim the driver's seat.

 

He has every intention of riding shotgun and letting Jae sleep it off in the back.

 

But before they even get in the car, Jaejoong wraps himself around Yoochun like a sluggish vine.

 

Junsu's already at the wheel, clearly tempted to just take off alone, so Yoochun grunts, "Yeah, yeah, okay," and quickly stuffs Jaejoong in the back.

 

"With me," Jaejoong says, giddy, and sprawls them across the backseat, closing the door with one foot.

 

"Let me at least put on my—" Yoochun starts anxiously, pawing at the seat.

 

"No," Jaejoong sighs into his jaw, wrapping his legs around Yoochun. "I'm your seatbelt now."

 

Junsu peels out of the garage like zombies or fangirls are pelting the car.

 

Yoochun holds on, fingers digging into Jaejoong's shoulders.

 

"Shit," he grumbles, dizzy, "we need to get some coffee in you. And me. Mostly you."

 

Jaejoong squirms and works one hand between their bodies, pulling on Yoochun's tie. "Need to get something else in—"

 

Junsu slams on the brakes.

 

Yoochun goes flying into the narrow space between seats, lower back cracking over the cup divider.

 

Casually, Jaejoong twists until he can look down. His face is the epitome of innocence when he says, "You shouldn't have unbuckled yourself from me."

 

And then he kisses Yoochun's temple.

 

*

 

Honestly, it's the fans' fault.

 

For giving Jaejoong alcohol at every fucking meet. For stuffing bottles and bottles of booze into their bodyguards' arms and then running off, giggling. It's their damn fault that Jaejoong has a towering liquor cabinet, full to bursting.

 

"This one's made from potatoes," Jaejoong explains, nuzzling a dark green bottle to his cheek.

 

Yoochun glances at his watch.

 

"I gotta be somewhere in an hour," he starts impatiently. "When you called and said it was an emergency—"

 

"They make alcohol from _potatoes_ ," Jaejoong whispers, eyes comically wide. "How is that not an emergency."

 

Yoochun glances at the bottle.

 

Half-empty.

 

"Did you at least eat anything," Yoochun asks, trying to somehow mentally x-ray and mend Jaejoong's liver.

 

Jaejoong pauses to ponder. "Potatoes?"

 

Yoochun wants to be serious and reprimanding and responsible but a laugh slips off his lips.

 

"You have an interview in the morning," he grins, wrapping a steady hand around Jaejoong's wrist, "so let's just get you to—"

 

Jaejoong sags against him, pressing his lips to Yoochun's neck. "Touch me."

 

A strong lick of want punches through Yoochun. "What."

 

Jaejoong's body flattens against his. "Everywhere. Please."

 

Unbidden, Yoochun's hands drop to Jaejoong's hips.

 

"More," Jaejoong sighs happily, closing his eyes and parting his lips in invitation and fuck, no, no, this isn't right.

 

Quietly, Yoochun pries him off and steers him to the couch and wraps a soft throw around him like a net made of yarn.

 

"Wait, no," Jaejoong whines, but it's mercifully muffled by the blanket, so Yoochun packs a decorative pillow atop for good measure, then escapes the apartment, fingers shaking throughout.

 

*

 

 

"NO," Junsu snaps irritably, shooing the waitress away.

 

She gives him a displeased scowl but strolls off with her drink cart anyway.

 

"Shit," Yoochun curses, spotting a familiar executive across the bar. The man's waving a huge bottle of champagne in their direction.

 

Yoochun pales.

 

"On it," Junsu shouts, slipping out of the booth like a maniac and sidelining the man.

 

Jaejoong narrows his eyes suspiciously.

 

"Are you guys on drugs?" he asks, equal parts concerned and probably offended.

 

Yoochun's too frazzled for tact. "You turn into a molester when you drink."

 

Jaejoong blinks.

 

"What?" he asks, voice raspy.

 

Yoochun's face is burning. "You get drunk and... do things."

 

Jaejoong frowns. "What kind of things?"

 

Yoochun's pants are oddly tight. "You try to make out with people. Mainly me. Usually me. Me, every time, really."

 

Jaejoong stares for a long moment.

 

Yoochun squirms, feigning indifference.

 

"You?" is all Jaejoong says and it sounds so casually exasperated, in a _not if you were the last person on earth_ way.

 

"Yeah," Yoochun mumbles with a shrug, "me."

 

"No way," Jaejoong laughs, in a familiar, broken way.

 

Yoochun's too agitated to think straight. He doesn't generally get pissed off but Jaejoong's roomed with him for years. He knows all the shortcuts.

 

"Ask Junsu if you don't believe me."

 

Jaejoong pauses.

 

His brows draw together, his eyes narrow, and his lips purse in a pout.

 

"Watch me prove you wrong," he says and beckons the waitress.

 

She hops over happily, armed with what looks like a mobile brewery.

 

Four pitchers of some disconcertingly yellowish swill later and Jaejoong says, "Take off my jacket."

 

Stupidly, Yoochun obeys.

 

He reaches for the zipper, tongue poking out in concentration.

 

"Slowly," Jaejoong murmurs softly, gazing at him with an odd mix of hunger and affection.

 

Helpless, Yoochun leans in.

 

"Okay, I think we're safe for at least—" Junsu announces cheerfully, slipping back into the booth, "NO, YOU GUYS, NO."

 

Mind foggy, Yoochun tries to focus.

 

There was something he was supposed to do.

 

Oh, right.

 

Not let Jaejoong drink.

 

Or violate him.

 

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU," Junsu moans, burying his face in his hands, clearly mourning his wasted efforts. "BOTH OF YOU. POSSIBLY ME."

 

"So cute," Jaejoong says with obvious affection and stretches across the table to pull Junsu's hands away.

 

He smacks their lips together in a dry peck.

 

Horrified, Junsu gives a distressed little mewl, arms flailing.

 

...Yoochun loves Junsu.

 

Loves him so much he probably wouldn't want to live in a world without him.

 

But right now, he sort of wants to punt him under a bus.

 

So he pulls Jaejoong away with surprising force.

 

"I'm gonna take him home," he tells Junsu darkly, rising.

 

Grossed out, Junsu wipes at his mouth. "I WANT A FOUR PAGE HANDWRITTEN APOLOGY—"

 

Yoochun pulls Jaejoong up.

 

He's almost finished buckling him into his car when Jaejoong seems to sober up a little, enough to say, clearly and without hesitation, "Gonna take me?"

 

_Home_ , is what Yoochun should say but instead he climbs in over Jaejoong, one knee catching on the shift stick, and slips behind the wheel, joints protesting. "Yeah."

 

"Take me ~hard," Jaejoong sings softly, head lolling, lips curled in amusement.

 

Yoochun's not amused at all.

 

His chest is burning like a motherfuck, something sharp and angry and completely unfamiliar tearing through, forcing him to inhale deeply.

 

He misses two exits and blows a four-way stop sign and then fuck, just pulls over onto the shoulder, slamming the gear into park.

 

He looks over to explain or apologize but Jaejoong's unbuckling himself.

 

"Chun-ah," he says urgently and climbs into Yoochun's lap.

 

It's awkward and cramped until Jaejoong reaches to the side and tilts the seat down.

 

"I'm not sorry," he tells Yoochun, then kisses him properly, fingers curling around both sides of Yoochun's jaw.

 

Yoochun fists his hands in Jaejoong's shirt.

 

*

 

"I dumped all the mini-bar stuff," Junsu says, looking smug.

 

"Mm," Yoochun shrugs from his spot on the bed, fixated on the music sheets in his lap.

 

"Not a single drop is left," Junsu claps his hands, satisfied.

 

Yoochun nibbles on his pen. "Mm."

 

Junsu closes the last cabinet and checks his phone. "Alright, he's coming, be cool."

 

Their hotel rooms are adjacent and Junsu's spent an hour de-alcoholizing everything before Jaejoong gets back from the conference and—

 

Yoochun doesn't care.

 

At all.

 

None of this concerns him.

 

He's calm and collected. A rock. A mountain. Immovable. Zen.

 

"Hey."

 

Yoochun almost swallows the pen.

 

"Whatcha doing," Jaejoong asks, plopping down on the bed.

 

"Song," Yoochun says, which totally makes sense in that way that sentences with no verbs or structure or logical sequence do.

 

Junsu squints suspiciously, looking up from his phone.

 

"Oh," Jaejoong says and stretches across the bed, face burrowing into the ugly covers. "Is it for me."

 

"It's for Junsu," Yoochun says coldly.

 

Junsu squints harder.

 

"Write one for me," Jaejoong sighs, closing his eyes.

 

Yoochun could write approximately a hundred just staring at his stupid profile. "Nope."

 

"Did you drink," Junsu asks with a wary sniffle.

 

Yoochun bites down on the pen.

 

"They gave me some makgeolli," Jaejoong says, curling up around Yoochun's right knee. He bats away a few crumpled music sheets and grins. "Because I was a good boy."

 

Junsu freezes.

 

"So," he says guardedly, backing away, "we have to get up early—"

 

"Staaaaaaay."

 

"—so I'm just gonna go sleep," Junsu finishes lamely, hastening out of the room with a muttered, "after I deadbolt my door."

 

And then it's just Yoochun and his pen and his lap full of Jaejoong.

 

"So," he hears himself say around the pen. "You were a good boy."

 

Jaejoong opens his eyes.

 

They're clear and dark and very focused. "And now I wanna be bad, Yoochunnie."

 

Yoochun's going to burn in hell.

 

He's going to be torn into a billion tiny pieces and scattered across all nine circles for an eternity and beyond.

 

Because Jaejoong's not going to remember this, never does, and this is horrible, it's awful, it's disrespectful and opportunistic and just _wrong_.

 

It's taking advantage and exploiting Jaejoong's trust and it's—

 

"So bad," Jaejoong whispers and crawls up Yoochun's body with predatory grace.

 

*

 

"It's a holiday..." Yoochun points out.

 

Junsu inspects the case of beer, mouth turning down. "It's _Children's Day_."

 

"The banks are closed," Yoochun shrugs.

 

"We can't drink on Children's Day," Junsu says as though Yoochun is suggesting they mass-murder puppies in every kennel throughout Asia.

 

"Then don't," Jaejoong says and ushers Junsu out.

 

Yoochun shivers.

 

*

 

"It's the weekend," Yoochun argues.

 

Junsu sighs as though the world is falling apart. "I'm... it's... the..." He shakes his head, rubs his face, then starts for the door. "I don't care anymore. Go ahead and drink yourself stupid. Just don't come to me when you need new livers."

 

Jaejoong locks the door behind him.

 

*

 

"This is an intervention."

 

Yoochun glances at Junsu. He folds the newspaper he's been reading, and pushes up his glasses. "What?"

 

Junsu is standing in the doorway, face set in a determined scowl. "I think you have a problem."

 

Yoochun should laugh, but the words strike instant fear into him.

 

"My liver's fine," he tries.

 

Junsu hesitates. "It's not your liver I'm worried about."

 

Yoochun forgets to breathe.

 

"We're going to do this like adults," Junsu says, taking his shoes off and claiming an armchair.

 

Yoochun has no idea what that means until Jaejoong pokes his head in, looking disheveled and super confused.

 

Yoochun bites back a groan.

 

"I'm here for someone's intervention?" he says adorably, tugging his shoes off.

 

"Yeah," Yoochun mutters, avoiding eye-contact. "Ours."

 

Falteringly, Jaejoong scoots to the couch, forming a sort of living-room triad.

 

"I only had one cigarette three days ago," he blurts out, eyes darting to the rug guiltily, "and only half of it. I didn't even enjoy it. It was triple-filtered. I didn't technically inhale."

 

Junsu makes a disappointed face and crosses his arms. "Not what we're here for," he says. " _Today_ , at least."

 

Jaejoong seems to be lost in thought. "My iced americano wasn't decaf last night and I'm sorry?"

 

"Nope."

 

"I'll stop sneaking pork into your japchae?"

 

Junsu looks grossed out.

 

Yoochun needs to man up. He needs to take responsibility. He needs to _stop_.

 

"Okay," he says. "No more drinking, we promise."

 

Jaejoong twitches, hard, then visibly tries to shut down his reaction.

 

"What's wrong with a couple of drinks now and then?" he asks somberly.

 

Junsu snorts and opens his mouth.

 

"Don't say it," Yoochun says and rises hastily, guilt washing over him. "We said we'd stop so that's that. End of discussion."

 

Jaejoong gives him an unusually serious look.

 

"I didn't say _I'd_ stop," he murmurs, then gets to his feet and takes off.

 

Junsu follows with a worried whine.

 

Shaken, Yoochun goes back to reading his newspaper upside down.

 

*

 

"I'M SORRY," Junsu wails, "I TAKE IT ALL BACK, JUST COME PICK US UP."

 

Yoochun glances at his phone.

 

What the fuck are those numbers on the display. What the fuck kind of hour is this. Who the fuck calls this late.

 

"Grab a cab," he tells his pillow, mostly asleep.

 

"HE DOESN'T WANNA LEAVE," Junsu says. There's really loud music blaring in the background. Yoochun vaguely recognizes the melody. And the harmony.

 

"Just drag him home," he suggests, tone apathetic. Except he's already sitting up and pulling on a shirt and looking for pants.

 

"I'M NOT YOU," Junsu shouts over the music massacre.

 

Fuck, where are his keys. And his wallet. And his self-control.

 

"Be there in ten."

 

*

 

The noraebang's pretty deserted.

 

Which isn't really surprising, considering the time, but Yoochun feels kinda messed up walking down an empty corridor, practically in his pajamas.

 

One room is still listed as occupied, so he pulls the door open and steps inside.

 

"Oh, thank god," Junsu says, hopping over to him and earnestly grabbing his hands. "Fix him."

 

Yoochun wants to ask if everything's okay, if there was fighting, if there was alcohol poisoning, if there was tweeting, but he just ends up staring at Junsu's lips.

 

They look normal. Un-kissed. The hair is un-mussed. The clothes are un-rumpled.

 

But Yoochun's heart is aching in a really stupid way, so he asks, "Did he do anything?"

 

Junsu drops his hands, looking so fucking done.

 

"Like I said," he says pointedly. "I'm not you."

 

Yoochun's heart skips so many beats it shortens his lifespan by a year.

 

"He's got some crazy tolerance," Junsu mumbles, nodding his chin at the couch where Jaejoong is passed out.

 

"Hm?" Yoochun asks, distracted.

 

He's suddenly sleepy again and the couch looks irresistible.

 

"I'm afraid to go check out and see my bill," Junsu complains, but only halfheartedly. "Can I go bankrupt at a noraebang?" He looks up at the sparkly ceiling with concern. "Would that end my career somehow? I feel like that's a career-ender."

 

Yoochun glances at the table. It's cluttered with empty bottles of every shape and color.

 

That... can't be right.

 

One beer or soju and Jaejoong's a goner. He usually gets handsy after, like, four sips. Completely loses his sense of propriety after ten. Sheds every last inhibition after a full glass of wine.

 

"You had at least half of those, right?" Yoochun says quietly, gesturing at the mess.

 

"I didn't drink anything," Junsu frowns, fishing out his wallet. He pulls out a gold card with the saddest of expressions. "I'm gonna go pay."

 

The moment Junsu's footsteps fade, Yoochun ambles closer to the couch.

 

Gingerly, he raises one foot to nudge Jaejoong's knee.

 

He does it two more times, patiently, then just jabs the heel of his shoe into Jaejoong's side, flipping him off the couch.

 

Jaejoong makes a broken little noise and sits up groggily.

 

Yoochun crouches down in front of him.

 

"You drank Junsu into the poor house."

 

Jaejoong offers him a helpless look, eyes puffy and red-rimmed. "He has houses."

 

Yoochun pretends that makes sense. "You drank a lot."

 

Jaejoong gives a great big nod, legs spread haphazardly on the floor, arms dangling between them for support.

 

"I gotta give it to you," Yoochun admits. "You faked it pretty good."

 

"Give me what."

 

Yoochun can't help it. He grins. "I can't believe I fell for this shit."

 

Jaejoong tries to move one arm but it flops down uselessly.

 

Yoochun touches both hands to Jaejoong's face, steadying him. "I'm sorry I ever thought you were bad at acting."

 

Jaejoong gives a frustrated little huff, shutting his eyes tight. His hair is sticking out everywhere and his lips are parted and Yoochun needs to kiss him.

 

He presses his lips to the corner of Jaejoong's mouth, then kisses his way down to the mark under Jaejoong's jaw, right above his pulse point.

 

"I'm assuming you remember everything," he says into his skin.

 

"Maybe," Jaejoong says softly, one hand creeping up Yoochun's side.

 

Yoochun feels drunk as fuck.

 

"Even kissing Junsu?" he asks, tone excessively critical.

 

Jaejoong's lips curl.

 

"Because," he explains, slurring a little. "You. Jealous."

 

Yoochun pulls away.

 

Jaejoong meets his eyes shamelessly, half-smug, half-taunting. "And he's cute."

 

Yoochun slants his mouth over Jaejoong's, fingers curling around his jaw.

 

"So easy," Jaejoong pants, breaking away.

 

Yeah.

 

"Let's get you home," Yoochun says, rising. His knees pop in protest as he stretches. "Sober you up. Make you not taste like the floor of a brewery."

 

Jaejoong pouts up at him.

 

He sticks out a hand.

 

Yoochun grabs it and pulls.

 

"And then," Jaejoong says hopefully, stumbling into Yoochun, "we'll do stuff to my stuff with your stuff?"

 

"Not falling for it," Yoochun grins.

 

"Really drunk this time, though," Jaejoong offers, rolling one shoulder.

 

"Walk a straight line for me," Yoochun says but then remembers Jaejoong has issues walking straight even when perfectly sober. "Okay. I'll trust you this one last time."

 

Jaejoong gently bites down on Yoochun's bottom lip, wrapping his arms around Yoochun's neck.

 

Okay. Maybe a couple thousand more times.

 

"Let's go," Jaejoong smiles, looking like a total fucking mess, "before Junsu makes me pay."

 

One hand slung around Jaejoong's waist, Yoochun leans left to dig the remote out of a pile of bottles.

 

He checks the monitor for the score before powering the machine off.

 

Perfect 100%.


End file.
